


Glitter on the Floor

by therumjournals



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: AU, M/M, Pinto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-05
Updated: 2010-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/pseuds/therumjournals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bartender!Zach AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitter on the Floor

Very few people had ever seen Chris Pine in a gay bar, and he sincerely hoped to keep it that way. So he kept his visits infrequent, never went to the same place twice, and kept his head down. He rarely did more than watch and drink, casting surreptitious glances around the room and convincing himself that no one was worth the risk.

 _Thrust_ had been open for almost three months by the time he got up the nerve to check it out. He’d known about it of course, the hot new gay bar in Silver Lake. Close to home, too close, but the crowd spilled out into the street now and he knew he could get lost in there, could see without being seen.

He stepped inside, dizzy with the sudden heat and noise, his body tensing up like he was going to turn around and run home to a book and a glass of wine. And he might have, too, if he hadn’t caught sight of the bartender just then, tall and dark with a cocky smile, and - and totally not worth it, Chris reminded himself. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sprinkling of chest hair peeking out from under the black tank top, or the rippling biceps, or the way his fist tightened around the cocktail shaker as he laughed at something someone was saying over the bar. Chris swallowed hard, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he realized that his mouth had gone dry. He needed a drink.

It took every bit of courage he could muster to push himself into the dark crush of bodies, with one last, desperate hope that everyone was too busy drinking or groping to take a second look at him. The darkness was a mixed blessing, hiding him in the shadows, forcing him to push his sunglasses up into his hastily-styled hair. But suddenly he was at the bar, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his dark jeans and fidgeted with the zipper on his leather jacket, trying not to look at, well, anything. Bodies jostled around him, but no one gave him a second glance, and he thought maybe he could finally start to breathe.

That is, until Hottie McDrinks caught a glimpse of him and sashayed over from the other end of the bar to flash him a dark, seductive grin.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said, and Chris was embarrassed to feel himself blush as though he’d never been faced with a flirty gay bartender before. The guy dropped his eyes and dragged them slowly up Chris’s chest, smirking as he met Chris’s stare. “Can I get you a cock…tail?” he asked with a wink. Chris opened his mouth and closed it again, dizzy with the rush of blood from his brain as his body responded to the sultry tone, the dark eyes rimmed in eyeliner, perfect hair sprinkled with what he was pretty sure was glitter. The bartender ran a hand through his hair, and a shower of silver sparkles drifted onto the bar. “Friday,” he said, shrugging, as if that were some sort of explanation. “You need a minute?”

“Uh. Um, no,” Chris said, recovering enough to fumble out his order. “Rum and Coke.”

“Uh, no.”

“No?”

The bartender leaned forward on an elbow. “No, I’m not making you something as boring as a rum and Coke. Come on. Give me some purpose.”

“Okay. Um. Surprise me?”

He felt a flutter in his stomach as the bartender cocked his head and smirked in approval before spinning on his heel to go collect the necessary ingredients. Chris watched him out of the corner of his eye and tried to still his racing heart.

He was back a minute later, slamming two shot glasses down on the bar and filling them with quick precision, layering Baileys, Grand Marnier, Kahlua, and what looked like some kind of dark rum to top it off. Chris quirked an eyebrow as the bartender handed him a straw.

“Wait,” he ordered, as Chris leaned toward the glass. He grabbed Chris’s wrist and pulled it back while he flipped open a lighter with his other hand. A flick of his wrist, and a low flame appeared on the surface of each shot. Chris glanced up to catch brown eyes glinting in the firelight, painfully aware of his pulse, racing under slender fingers. The bartender nodded toward the flaming drinks. “Blow.”

Chris hesitated, but managed to purse his lips and blow a weak stream of air across the shots, extinguishing the flames. Then his wrist was released as the bartender twirled his straw with a flourish and commanded, “Now, suck.” Chris followed his lead, and they leaned in close to suck down the mix of sweet liquor and alcohol fumes.

“Whoo, shit,” Chris said, as he felt the alcohol rush through his system – a tingling sensation in his fingers and an exhilarating lightheaded feeling in his brain. He sat down heavily on a stool and rested his elbows on the bar.

“Another one?”

Chris shook his head and a wave of dizziness washed over him. “Fuck no. Can I – could I just get a rum and Coke? Please?”

The bartender grinned like he knew Chris was going to say that, and slid a rum and Coke across the bar. “It’s strong, okay?” he added, nodding toward the drink. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “So don’t drink it too fast if you don’t want to accidentally give me your number later.”

Chris clutched the drink in his fist, not breaking eye contact as he lifted it to his lips for a long, refreshing sip.

“You look familiar,” the bartender said, squinting at him. “Been in here before?”

Chris gave a half-shrug, trying not answer. He raised his eyes hesitantly and waited for the flash of recognition, the “Oh shit, you’re….” that would have him tossing the rest of his drink back in a single swallow and heading for the door. But it never came, and the bartender just shrugged and turned away. Chris breathed a sigh of relief, let his eyes linger on that leather-clad ass, and tried to remember what it was he was supposed to be telling himself.

He slipped into a hazy fantasy, one in which he’d have the balls to slide his number across the bar, maybe invite the guy back to his place. He wondered what clever pickup line this imaginary version of himself would use – something about alcohol, maybe, or “you light my fire”, no, something flame, flaming, feeling the burn – no, Christ, these were terrible, thank god he would never actually try to go through with it. He was pulled out of his frustrated hypothetical come-on as the song changed, a new beat pulsing through the bar as a cheer went up from the other patrons. Chris wondered for a second why everyone seemed so excited. Then he saw the bartenders grin at each other, reach behind them, and hop up on the bar holding some serious looking water guns.

“Sex on the Beach?” the hot one asked, grinning as he aimed the plastic barrel of the squirt gun at Chris’s face.

Chris flinched back a foot and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Open your mouth,” he called down from up near the ceiling, moving the gun into position between long, long legs.

Chris glanced to the side to see a glittery blond boy doing just that as another bartender squirted a stream of liquid into his mouth. Chris swallowed hard and looked back up.

“What’s your name?” he shouted over the music.

“Zach,” he yelled back. “Why?”

“I just usually like to know who I’m opening my mouth for,” Chris smirked, shocked at his own boldness.

“Interesting,” Zach said, running the tip of the gun down Chris’s cheek. He dropped to his knees on the bar and positioned his finger over the orange trigger. “Now open up.”

Chris opened his mouth obediently, meeting Zach’s eyes as a stream of sweet liquor tickled his tongue, splashing into his throat until his mouth was full, and he only just remembered to swallow as the gun pulled away. He could feel Zach watching as excess liquid spilled from the corners of his lips and dripped onto his shirt.

Zach dropped the water gun behind the bar and jumped down over the front. He gripped Chris’s arm and nodded toward where the booze was soaking into his t-shirt. “You should clean that up,” he said roughly. He held Chris’s gaze, and for a moment Chris wasn’t sure what he was asking. But he gave a slight nod anyway, and the corner of Zach’s mouth twitched in relief as he tugged Chris toward the bathroom.

Chris glanced nervously toward the bar. “Um, are you…you’re not going to get in trouble, are you?” Chris asked, cringing even as the words left his mouth.

“Oh honey,” he heard Zach say in his ear, drowning out the music. “I was in trouble the moment you walked in the door.”

Zach shoved the bathroom door open, kicked it shut with a black-booted foot, and pressed Chris up against it, his tongue snaking out to lick pineapple vodka from Chris’s throat and jaw. Chris tilted his head back with a moan, all too happy to let Zach work him over.

“What are you into?” Zach pressed his fingers into Chris’s hair as he breathed the question. With his other hand, he worked at Chris’s fly, shoving his fingers inside, rubbing them over the light spattering of curls that he found there. “Come on, tell me, what do you want?”

“Guh,” Chris panted, his hands scrabbling over Zach’s arms as he searched for something to hold onto. “Anything, I don’t care.”

“You want me to fuck you?” Zach whispered, his breath warm against Chris’s skin. He slid his tongue out and licked a wet trail up his temple, his lips hot and damp against Chris’s ear. “Please let me fuck you, baby, come on, let me fuck that gorgeous ass.”

Chris moaned and sagged back against the wall, swaying with desire as Zach pressed up against him. The tight leather pants left nothing to the imagination, Chris could feel every hard inch against his thigh and yeah, he wanted it, so much, even though every last shred of common sense screamed against it. But fucking hell, if anything was worth it, if there was a reason he’d been slinking around gay clubs for the past six months, this had to be it, and he slid his hands up under Zach’s shirt to press his fingernails into skin and muscle.

“Fuck yeah, fuck me, you sexy….” Sexy what, fuck, he was bad at dirty talk. He kissed Zach’s neck and tried again, “I want it, want you, god…” his voice trailed off into a shaky groan as he reached down to help Zach shove his pants down over his hips. “You have a condom, right?” he panted, frantic for a moment, like there was a chance in hell that he was going to stop this.

“Of course,” Zach said, rolling his eyes. Right, yeah, of course he did, he probably did this every fucking night, fucking hell, what was he doing-

Luckily his brain shut down at that point, as Zach worked his own fly open and maneuvered Chris into position, turning him so he could grip the sides of the sink as Zach leaned over to squeeze handsoap into his palm. Chris felt the hot slick tip of a finger circling his entrance and gasped, dropping his head as every muscle in his body seemed to clench up at once. Zach wrapped an arm around his chest, mouthing at his neck and the collar of his t-shirt as he pressed his finger into Chris.

“Don’t do this often?” he asked gently, and Chris sucked in another ragged breath as he felt Zach’s finger wiggle up into him, impossibly far. Zach’s low chuckle tickled the hairs on the nape of his neck. “That’s okay, gorgeous, you don’t have to say a word.” Which was great, because talking had been about the furthest thing from Chris’s mind, focused as he was on the feel of Zach’s finger thrusting in and out of him, Zach’s body sealed tightly against him and _oh fuck_ the sharp press of teeth in his shoulder distracting him for a second as Zach added another finger.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Zach was saying, “I could fucking do this all day.”

“Don’t,” Chris managed to grind out, lifting his head to look in the mirror, his breath catching at the expression on Zach’s face. His eyes were closed and he was mouthing absently at Chris’s neck and hair, all of his focus on his fingers, playing Chris’s ass like it was a fucking fiddle. Chris moaned and pressed back, startling Zach out of his reverie. He watched Zach opened his eyes, saw him take a deep breath as the world came back into focus.

“Yeah,” Zach said, sliding his fingers out of Chris and reaching into his back pocket. Chris heard the tear of the condom wrapper, watched Zach’s face as he slid it on, the way his mouth hung open a little, his breathing labored and cheeks flushed. Then he caught Chris’s eye in the mirror, grinned a feral grin, and pressed in close, the head of his cock bumping against Chris’s entrance. Chris saw Zach’s hand move up to his cheek, then his head was pulled roughly to the side and Zach was kissing him, hot tongue plunging into his mouth as Zach’s cock breached his tight hole and his body spasmed in shock.

“Fuck!”

“Sorry,” Chris panted, as Zach drew his hand up to his lip, where Chris had bitten down hard in surprise.

“S’okay,” Zach breathed, and he pressed a hand between Chris’s shoulder blades, guiding him down so he could get a better angle, thrusting hard into Chris’s ass.

“Oh fuck,” Zach was saying, “Oh god, this feels…fuck, you have no idea, ungh, god.”

Chris braced his hands on the sink and stared into the mirror, stared at Zach, dark-eyed and intent behind him. Zach caught his eyes as he slammed into Chris, somehow managing to speak through the rough pace he’d quickly set, unable to help himself. “Fuck, look at you, Jesus. Your eyes, god, you look like a fucking movie star.” Chris dropped his head, staring at the white porcelain of the sink for a moment before he closed his eyes and just let himself feel.

Zach’s cock was huge and hot and slick, and Chris’s asshole burned from the stretch of it, but he could feel the urgency with which Zach was thrusting into him and it seemed to echo through him, bubbling in his blood. And Zach was so fucking far inside of him, slamming up against his prostate, sending stars spinning through his vision, and he forgot about the burn and the bar and being Chris Pine, forgot about everything but how fucking good it felt to have _this_.

He was on the edge already, squeezing his eyes shut just trying to hold on a little longer when Zach slid a hand down to wrap long fingers around his neglected cock.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Zach panted, giving his dick a short squeezing stroke. “Damn, I should have sucked you off first.”

Chris choked on his own breath and lost it, coming in messy spurts across the sink and the floor, a few droplets splashing against the mirror. He saw Zach’s eyes widen at the sight, felt him clench and shudder, watched him bite his swollen lip just before he buried his face in Chris’s neck to give a few more weak thrusts.

The he pulled away, slumping back against the wall of the bathroom.

Chris stood up slowly, willing his breathing to return to normal, swiping blindly at himself with a handful of paper towels. He went to toss them in the toilet, but before he could he felt Zach’s fingers around his wrist, lifting his arm and moving it over to the trash can. Chris dropped the towels in the trash and raised an eyebrow as he zipped his fly.

“Clogs easy,” Zach said, nodding toward the toilet and avoiding Chris’s eyes as he straightened himself up.

Chris picked up his jacket and pulled it on, looking at the floor, not sure how things were supposed to go from here. He glanced toward the door and accidentally met Zach’s eye. They stared at each other for a moment before Zach stepped forward to close the space between them, wrapping a hand around Chris’s jaw to pull him in for a hard, final kiss.

“Gotta get back to work,” he said, turning around and opening the door, letting Chris step out first before he followed, apparently unconcerned whether any of the bar patrons knew or cared what had been going on. Chris walked slowly through the bar, pulling his sunglasses on despite the darkness. He watched Zach’s tall figure slide gracefully behind the bar, caught a glimpse of the cocky grin as he turned to pour someone a drink, looking for all the world like he hadn’t just fucked Chris senseless in the bathroom.

Chris groaned at the thought and scrubbed a hand over his face. He really could have used another drink, but he shook his head, knowing it would be best to get out of here before his luck ran out and someone recognized him. His whole body tingled with the aftereffects of a good fuck – hell, who was he kidding, an amazing fuck, and- He ran a hand through his hair, as he told himself how enormously _bad_ an idea it would be to give this guy his number. Then he turned around and headed back toward the bar.

Zach was at the far end now, and Chris pushed his way through the crowd to get there, just in time to see him duck into a back room. He eyed it warily, pretty sure he wasn’t allowed in there. Oh, what the hell, he’d just had the guy’s dick in his ass, he felt like he had a small measure of privilege here, and he slipped inside just before the door shut.

Chris squinted in the dim light, his eyes registering Zach’s silhouette and the light of the phone pressed to his ear just before he heard what Zach was saying.

“You will never believe who I fucked tonight,” Chris heard him say into his phone, and he felt his stomach drop. “No, ew. No, will you just let me tell you? It was _Chris motherfucking_ \- Yo, what the FUCK?!” Zach shouted as Chris ripped the phone out of his hand and tossed it across the closet. The phone smacked the wall and ricocheted to the ground with an unpleasant cracking sound. Chris had a hand in Zach’s t-shirt and was pushing him against the wall before either of them could think.

“Knew you liked it rough,” Zach grunted, his lip curled just enough for Chris to catch the glint of a canine.

“You said you didn’t know who I was,” Chris growled.

Zach looked down at Chris’s fist wrapped in his shirt and back up into his face with a spark of defiance in his eyes. “I lied.”

“I thought- Jesus,” Chris muttered, pushing Zach into the wall and backing away. He glared at him in the darkness. “I believed you.”

Zach shrugged. “I’m an actor.”

“Oh really?” Chris said, looking him up and down, then flicking his gaze to shelves lined with wine bottles and jars of olives. “Because you look like a little starfucker bitch of a bartender to me.”

A flash of annoyance flickered across Zach’s features and he crossed his arms. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It was just a friend, anyway, not like some magazine.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” Chris snapped, clenching his fists as anger flowed through him, at Zach, at his own stupidity. He nodded toward the ground, where the phone had gone dark. “Feel free to call them back.”

“I’m not a starfucker, okay?” Zach said, an expression of nervous earnestness on his face, like he really wanted Chris to believe him. “I…I don’t usually do…that.” He gestured out toward the bar.

Chris let his eyes travel down over Zach’s t-shirt to his tight pants, then back up to his glittery hair and dark, gorgeous eyes.

“You’re an asshole,” he declared, turning away and pushing out the door. He shoved through the crowded bar and out into the night and tried to convince himself it hadn’t been worth it.

*

After that, Chris stayed far away from Thrust. He’d known it was a mistake, going to a gay bar on the same block as his dry cleaners and the hardware store and his favorite bistro. His suits hung wrinkled in his closet and the lightbulb in his hall had been out for three weeks. Thank god Lamill was far enough away, and he was able to find a suitable replacement bistro on the other side of town.

So he almost had a heart attack when he looked up from his spinach salad one day to find Zach-the-bartender sliding into the seat across from him.

“So I’ve been jerking off to your _Details_ spread for, like, a week,” was his opening line.

Chris raised an eyebrow and glanced frantically around the restaurant. “Are you fucking stalking me?” His eyes flicked quickly over Zach’s outfit, which consisted of a garish red and white striped tank top and what appeared to be a sailor’s hat.

Zach followed his gaze and shrugged. “Wednesday.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “You haven’t come by the bar.”

“You think?”

“You owe me a new phone.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Try harder.”

“You know you could get anyone you wanted, right?” Zach said, resting his elbows on the table like he was planning to stay while.

“Gee, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind while you fuck off and leave me alone.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight,” Zach said, sliding out of his seat.

“What? No you won’t.”

“Yes, I will,” Zach said, turning back to him with a gleam in his eye. He set his hands on the table and leaned into Chris’s space. “Smoldering at me from between the pages of a rather…sticky….copy of _Details_ magazine.”

“Oh, ew,” Chris said, curling his lip in disgust. Zach winked at him and turned away, heading toward the door with an exaggerated sway of his hips.

Chris scowled intently at his salad and let him leave.

He looked up again when someone slid into the seat Zach had recently vacated. It was the waiter, some hot blond twink with hair falling into his eyes as he gave Chris a discerning look.

“What?”

“You want his number?”

“You fucking know him?”

The kid rolled his eyes. “How do you think he knew you were here?”

“He told you-“

“Well, yeah. I mean, after I went by the bar a few weeks ago to ask him why our phone conversation was so rudely interrupted.”

Chris glared at him. If he could smolder, surely he could make this kid simultaneously combust by the force of his gaze.

It didn’t work. He tried a different tactic. “What’s your name?”

“Armani.”

“Yeah, right.”

Armani shrugged.

“Whatever, look _Armani_ , are you familiar with the concept of ‘discretion’?”

Armani rolled his eyes. “I won’t say anything, I swear. Do you want his number or what?”

Chris squinted at him, then at the door of the restaurant, then toward the heavens, like that was going to be any help.

“Fine,” he said, dropping his hands on the table. Armani scribbled something on his check and slid it across the table. Chris reached out and took it.

*

Chris paced, running a hand through his hair as he listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Chris stopped in his tracks, breaking into a sweat. Zach sounded out of breath. “Zach,” Chris said, his voice gruff. “It’s Chris. Pine.”

“Oh, shit,” Zach said, sounding shocked.

“Look, I wanted to uh…to say sorry about your phone. I want to, like, get you a new one or something.”

“You do realize that I’m actually talking to you through the wonders of technology right now, right?”

Right. Shit. “Um, yeah. I guess…okay. Never mind then.”

He could practically hear Zach’s smirk through the phone. “I mean, unless that’s just a bullshit line you’re using to try to get in my pants again.”

“I…what?”

Zach lowered his voice. “You want me to fuck you again, right? Come on, you can tell me.”

Chris made a disbelieving sound. “Are you- fuck this, I knew I shouldn’t have called.”

“Chris, _wait_ -” Zach said, his voice losing its cocky edge. “I’m sorry. Look, I should probably be the one apologizing to you anyway. Do you want to come by the bar?”

The Bad Idea light flashed brightly in Chris’s mind. “Yeah, I’m not sure…”

“You can come by late, if you want. I’ll be closing up around 4:00.”

The Worse Idea light blinked on. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“Right, okay. You do that. Surprise me.” The cocky tone was back, and Chris’s heart thudded in his chest as he ended the call.

*

Chris watched from the shadows as Zach left the bar, turning to lock the door behind him. He turned toward the street, hand flying to his chest as Chris stepped out of the darkness.

“Jesus _Christ_ , you scared me!”

Chris frowned a little as he took in Zach’s appearance. He had on jeans and a black baseball cap, and Chris couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of glitter. Hell, he looked almost…normal, in an unfairly attractive way, and Chris suddenly felt a little ridiculous in his leather pants and tiny sleeveless t-shirt.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You look…Jesus. Did you just step out of my wet dream? Because…Jesus.”

Chris blushed and looked away, running a hand nervously over the back of his neck.

Zach leaned against the wall with an actual smile. “So, I’m sorry about the other night, okay?”

Chris furrowed his brow in confusion for a second before he remembered. He’d kind of forgotten about the need for an apology seconds after he’d hung up on Zach and started trying to figure out what to wear. “Oh, right. Yeah. No problem. I mean, thanks.” He swallowed hard as he met Zach’s eyes, caught in the sudden, dark intensity of his gaze. A shiver of loss slid across his skin when Zach turned away to glance at the door.

“I, uh, have keys-“

Chris nodded, and Zach fumbled with his keys in the lock, hands shaking as he tried desperately to get inside. He pushed the door open and turned, and Chris was on him, slamming the door shut with his foot as strong hands gripped Zach’s face and pulled him in for an unforgiving kiss. Zach responded, pushing Chris against the wall to kiss him back just as hard. He grinned as Chris pulled off, panting, and pushed his baseball cap off to press his fingers into Zach’s sweaty hair. They kissed again, teeth scraping, tongues sliding ungracefully against each other. When Chris pulled away again, it was to glare at Zach, the spark in his electric blue gaze and his heaving chest giving him away even as he threatened.

“Look, you can’t…I swear to god, Zach, if you…”

“I know,” Zach said, pressing a leg in between Chris’s leather clad ones. “I know, okay?” He pressed his lips against Chris’s stubbled jaw, and Chris tipped his head back, shuddering at the feel of Zach’s teeth and tongue along the line of his throat. “I don’t want to tell anyone,” Zach breathed, kissing back up Chris’s cheek to murmur against his temple. “I don’t even want anyone else to know…” He slid his hands down to rub at Chris’s leather-clad ass. “Oh fuck, Chris, you’re _perfect_.”

Chris was clutching at the back of Zach’s shirt, pulling him close, and hoping that those embarrassing panting noises weren’t coming from him. “You were right, Zach, god, you were right, ungh, I want you to fuck me, please, please,” he babbled against Zach’s neck.

“Oh, I will. But not until after I get my mouth on your fucking gorgeous cock,” Zach breathed, tilting his hips against Chris’s erection. He slammed their mouths together for a deep, messy kiss, pressing his tongue into Chris’s mouth until Chris had to pull away, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to come in his pants. “Fuck, Chris,” Zach moaned. “Keep that up and I’m going to think you want me as much as I want you.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Chris growled, even as he mouthed damply along the line of Zach’s jaw. “Don’t go telling your friends that you’re Chris Pine’s boyfriend.”

Zach’s breath hitched and he pressed his face into Chris’s neck, his unceasing kisses softer than any previous as he murmured something that Chris couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“I want that,” Zach whispered. “Fuck, I do, I’m sorry, I want more than a quick fuck in a bar, I want…” His words turned into kisses again as he slid a palm up against Chris’s taut stomach.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know,” Zach said, with a helpless laugh. He pulled back just enough to press his lips against Chris’s, licking into his mouth in an achingly tender kiss that made Chris’s heart flutter with possibility. “I want to woo you,” Zach said, pressing Chris’s shoulders against the wall, his eyes serious as he seemed to look into Chris’s soul. He ran a fingertip down Chris’s cheek. “God. I want to take you out for candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach.”

“Paparazzi pics of us splashed all over the gossip blogs, ‘Chris Pine, spotted out and about with aspiring actor Zach’…uh-“

“Quinto.”

“You’d probably have to settle for ‘mystery male’. Is that what you’re after?”

“Shit, Chris, I don’t even care about that. We can meet in alleyways and parking lots for all I care. Sneak me in in the dead of night, fuck, I’ll wait at home for you if you want. I’ll fucking cook your favorite foods and draw you a bath and give you massages and hour-long blow jobs when you walk in the door, anything you want, Chris, I swear.”

Chris felt his lips curl into a smile and he hid it in Zach’s hair. “Oh, my agent is going to _haaate_ you.”

“So is that a yes?”

Chris took a deep breath and let himself hold Zach close, breathing him in like a lover instead of a bathroom fuck. God, that felt good. “I’m not about to invite you to move in with me,” he started, running his fingertips across the back of Zach’s neck. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.” And again and again and again, he added silently to himself.

“When?” Zach asked, breathless. “Where? Parking lot, alleyway? Splayed out under you on your king-size bed?”

A small moan escaped Chris’s lips and he clung a little tighter to Zach. He tried to calm his breathing, to figure out how he’d gotten here.

"So, you and your little friend Armani, did you guys ever…?”

Zach pulled back to give him a look. "Oh please. You think I could actually fuck someone who calls himself Armani?"

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, I could. But only once, and I totally couldn’t take it seriously. He's nothing like you, Chris. You're so fumbly and adorable and _real_. And yes," he breathed, "I do recognize the irony in that statement, Mr. Movie Star."

Chris was wearing tight leather pants. He couldn’t even take _himself_ seriously. And had Zach just called him _fumbly_? He threaded his fingers through Zach's belt loops, pulling him close, burying his nose in Zach's neck. "Come home with me," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Zach said, turning toward him with a slight smile. "But for a second there, I thought you said 'take me home and fuck me senseless'?"

"You're putting words in my mouth," Chris said.

Zach touched his thumb to Chris's lips. "Oh, but you make it so easy, gorgeous," he murmured. "Such a pretty mouth."

Chris kept their eyes locked as he pulled Zach's thumb in between his lips, biting down a little with his front teeth.

Zach groaned and yanked him away from the wall. "That's it, we're leaving."

Chris’s fists spasmed, grasping at Zach’s shirt to prevent him from pulling away, but instead Zach just pulled him closer, pressing their mouths together for a long, heated second. Then Chris was clutching at the air as Zach maneuvered out of his arms, jogged a few steps across the floor and hopped over the bar with seriously attractive ease. Chris knew his mouth was gaping open a little as he watched, but he couldn’t help it, and then Zach appeared around the end of the bar with a bottle of Jack in one hand and champagne in the other.

“What...?” Chris managed.

“Social lubrication, celebration,” Zach told him, raising the bottles. “Whatever the mood requires.”

“Um, I mean…can you just _take_ stuff like that?” He winced internally. Despite the leather pants, he apparently had not yet managed to beat the goody-two shoes portion of his brain into submission.

Zach winked at him. “I’ll dock my pay later.” He chuckled at Chris’s confused expression. “I _own_ the bar,” he said.

“You…wait, _what_?” Chris sputtered, his whole worldview tilting on its axis.

Zach slung an arm around his shoulders, and guided them towards the door, leaning in close to murmur, “I’m a very _enterprising_ aspiring actor.”

“I see that,” Chris said back, still in a state of semi-shock over Zach’s revelation. They were on the street now, Zach leaning in close, his mere presence so intoxicating that Chris was pretty sure they weren’t going to need either of the bottles he was still holding in his hands. They’d gone half a block before Chris even realized that they were in public, that maybe he should disengage himself from Zach’s side. Instead, he found himself wrapping his arm around Zach’s thin waist, his fingers sliding up under his shirt, gripping instinctively, finding purchase against the line of his hipbone.

A flash went off in front of them, then several more in succession, and Chris had an arm over his eyes and was stumbling into an alley as they heard a car door slam and the screech of tires.

He heard Zach’s footsteps behind him and whirled around, fists clenched and teeth bared in sudden fury. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

“Chris, I didn’t-“

Chris shoved Zach in the chest, stepped forward to push him again until he was pinning him against the wall with a forearm across his chest.

“Okay, this is kind of hot,” Zach mumbled.

“Are you trying to tell me they just _happened_ to be outside _your_ bar at four o’fucking clock in the morning?”

Zach’s eyes slid to the side, unmistakable regret flashing across his face before he looked back at Chris. “I…fuck, Armani texted me a few hours ago, I told him you might be coming by. I didn’t even think-.”

Chris growled and leaned in, covering Zach’s mouth with his own. Then he slid a hand into Zach’s pocket, yanked out his phone, and hurled it straight into the wall on the other side of the alley.

Zach’s mouth dropped open. “You _fucker_ ,” he said, but his lips were curling into a smile and he leaned his head back against the wall and laughed. Chris tried to hold onto his anger, but it was melting away in the face of Zach’s amusement. He scrubbed at his face with both hands to hide his smile.

“You do realize that little shit might have just ruined my career.” Chris ignored the nagging feeling that he should probably care a lot more than he did at the moment.

Zach put a hand on his shoulder, and he let himself be pulled into a tight embrace. “I know this guy who can get you a job as a hot bartender,” Zach murmured. “How do you feel about glitter?” Chris groaned into his shoulder.

“I wonder what the headline will say,” he muttered.

“ ** _Chris Pine gets groped by mystery male; likes it_** ”, Zach suggested.

Chris wrapped a broad palm around the back of Zach’s head and brought their mouths together, hot and fumbly and real. By the time he pulled away, they were both panting hard.

Zach’s hand slid over his ass, dug into the tight leather, and Chris felt compelled to correct him.

“ _ **Loves it**_.”


End file.
